


Is it wise to make a Chaos God bored?

by DebofAmber



Series: The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury. [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebofAmber/pseuds/DebofAmber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of Godly revenge with some very unexpected consequences to the God himself.</p>
<p>The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.<br/>- Marcus Aurelius</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

Could you die of boredom? Could you get so bored you committed suicide? Was that what Odin was doing, hoping Loki killed himself and saved everyone some trouble? Or was he a weapon, locked away in the vaults until needed? Was he to be kept out of the sight of the good people of Asgard yet used as a cautionary tale to the few children of the realm? 

Loki didn’t know. What he did know was that he was tired of his dwarven crafted cell. His fingers knew every rune and every merge point of the metal bars. His feet knew every ridge of the solid metal floor and his eyes knew every bit of rock in the underground room the cell was in. The spelled metal kept his magic contained with him, keeping Loki from magically stepping sideways or letting any other spells out to manipulate people into freeing him. He couldn’t get illusions out either, not that he would expect that to work. He’d used that spell too often. His guards wore ear plugs and had clearly been instructed to never meet his eyes. The precautions were rather flattering, really.

A Guard brought him a meal, a bucket of water and a refuse bucket each day, as best as he could tell. The next day they took the old things away if he placed them in a bin that could be swiveled out. When he didn’t, they gave him nothing. No matter how many days passed. Apparently he could chose to starve himself to death if he wished, but it would take a long time to get that bored. He had no furniture, no bedding and no books.The only other breaks from the monotony were exercising, meditating or sleeping. He had never done so much of each in his several centuries of life. Loki was in top physical shape, well centered in his magic and thoroughly rested. He was so bored he was crafting new cantrips. He hadn’t done that for years.

He couldn’t even track time very well. He had one small knife, with a blade the length of his thumb. Loki wasn’t sure if that had been left deliberately or if they had just missed it. It looked like part of his armor, and had seldom been used. The knife could not mark the metal that surrounded him and he was unwilling to do any damage to his armor or himself. For a while he had unraveled and tied threads from his shirt to a bar, but the guard who seemed to hate him most had cut them all free one day, smirking at Loki as he did so. There had been 63 threads.

Loki had been storing magic inside himself for the past 20 buckets or so. He couldn’t help but be a bit depressed at his counting days by buckets. How irritating to be forced to measure time by clean refuse buckets! How sad to be so limited that the odor of a dirty one was so annoying. At least the feeling of being full of magic was different. He was so full of magic he was surprised his hair wasn’t standing on end. His skin felt too small. his armor too tight and still he waited, using new cantrips he’d thought up to store energy in his hair, in his toenails, in the plaque on his teeth. He’d learned that if his armor and clothing were filthy enough they would hold magic. When he could hold no more he was going to release it at the bucket slot when the exchange was made. He was also going to wait for the petty guard, even if he felt he’d burst. There were a few nice ones, decent warriors who slipped cookies or sweets into the bucket when the bars blocked Heimdal and the All-father’s eyes. He would do his best not to harm them, of course. When he blasted out his magic, something was going to happen, and it was going to happen at the weakest part of the 12 by 12 by 12 cube.

What was going on, Loki wondered, with his family? Was Thor still trying to talk Odin into lessening his sentence? As far as Loki was concerned this was a mild punishment. He’d had time to undo the rest of the blocks Thanos had left in his brain - the few that the Hulk hadn’t gotten by slamming his head into Stark’s marble floors. Probably Odin realized this, and Loki was doing what Odin wished, annoying as that thought was. Odin had held Loki’s head still and gazed into his eyes for several minutes, his eye narrowing at what he found. Odin had great magic, when he bothered to use it, he would have seen the tangle of broken and unraveling magic in Loki’s mind.

That careful scanning by Odin and this mild punishment had been why Loki had been patient so far. Ruefully he admitted he had needed the time to heal and put his mind back together as well. Enough was enough however. Much longer and he was going to start slipping into madness, as he had in the nothingness of the void. He didn’t want to return to that, it had made him weak and easy to be spelled to Thanos’ use. 

The one spiteful guard, the one with the blue green eyes was getting worse each day. Last week he had put his hand in Loki’s food as he put it in the slot, yesterday he had spit in the food. Even if Loki did not escape, he was sure he would at least injure the blue-green eyed one. It would be interesting to see what a blast of magic focused by dwarven steel did to the fool. As it was, Loki had been rather pettily trying to ensure the spiteful one got to collect the smelliest buckets. So sad, to be reduced to using his crap to retaliate for a guard’s pettiness. Hm, wait, what an interesting thought. If his armor and clothing could hold his magic now because they were so saturated with his sweat and grease from his skin, what of his waste? It had been part of him, after all. Smirking to himself at the thought of a magical explosion of shit, Loki sat cross legged to think up his strangest cantrip yet.


	2. Why No, it is Not

It was strange trying to hold so much magic. Usually he had a staff to store it in or he would pull what he needed from the aether. Since the bars interfered with and limited the flow of magic and he had no staff, absorbing and storing what he could get was Loki’s only option. Creating the spells to store magic in unusual places like his fingernails and filthy clothing had kept him entertained for a few days and when he was free he would investigate this further. Having his armor holding magic was a very interesting thought and one well worth thinking about. There had to be a way to do this that didn’t involve sweat, spit and other substances in his clothing and on his armor.  
Holding so much magic felt like he had eaten well with good ale to wash it down. It felt like he had spent a night with a very able and willing partner. He felt better than he had since before Odin had told Loki that Thor was to be named his heir. He was disgustingly dirty and stuck in a cell, yet the magic was making him feel good. Loki could feel the small pathways of his brain forming and reforming in the flow of magic through his body. Was this why the ancient sorcerers spent so much time meditating? Had Odin known this would happen? Surely not, why would Odin want Loki to be more powerful? And was he always going to have to worry he was doing just what Odin wanted?  
Loki slit his eyes open to watch the approaching guard. This was the gray eyed one, the one who added mint to his water bucket and usually a dessert of some sort to his food. Today was not the day to escape then. So be it. He would spend some part of today wiping his blood across the points where the bars joined on his cage. Perhaps that would help him escape. Exploding blood wasn’t as entertaining an image, but there were only so many substances his body had and could spare.  
With crafted metal it was usually the joining points that were the weakest. He had spent so much time going over the bars that it was unlikely to catch Heimdal or Odin’s attention when he did it again. Loki had no idea how well the spell he was weaving would work, which was a problem. This would only work once so he had really better give it his best shot. The theory was sound, of course, it was the power he was unsure of. He had never really spent any time studying this type of magic, there weren’t many books on it and no one seemed to use it. Hm, there was another fluid he could spare, wasn’t there? A rather powerful one, perhaps the most powerful of all. It was a good thing that today’s guard was decent, he would have time for several sessions of, ah, producing this fluid. Producing it should have the added advantage of turning Odin and Heimdal’s eyes turning well away from him too.

 

As usual the guard kept his eyes down, but Loki noticed he did make a shallow bow, acknowledging his Prince. Loki didn’t know why this guard still respected him, but he greatly appreciated it. He returned the bow, arm across his chest in the warrior’s fashion. It was amazing how much these little gestures eased his feelings of being isolated. Even the obnoxious one helped, as the abuse was attention, after all.  
After several sessions that day and night and some rather uncomfortable chafing Loki had covered the iron bars of the bucket and his plates and the silverware with spunk. He was feeling like a guilty adolescent, the last time he had done pranks with his spunk was when one of Thor’s friends had teased him for having no girlfriend. He had covered the fellow’s doorknob and pillow, if he remembered correctly.  
Loki knew this was the day when the guard walked in the door. The careless way his food was held, the way the man let the 2 buckets knock together and the water slosh out told him that. He held himself still refusing to react as the guard coughed across his food and then sniffed. He didn’t react as the guard carelessly put the new things down with a clatter, it mattered a whole lot less when he would not be eating the food.  
When the pin holding the rotating bin in place was pulled and the bin half turned Loki struck. The buckets, their contents, the blood on the metal and the spit covered remnants of yesterday’s food exploded and all the magic Loki held pushed the explosion outward. The noise was deafening and the green flash left his eyes blind for a few moments. He hadn’t expected it to be so loud.  
He knew he didn’t have that much time as so much magic would catch Odin and Heimdal’s attention so he moved forward with his arms outstretched. He was surprised to not meet the bars with his hands, he’d expected to have to worm his way out of the bin opening, but instead found himself stepping out onto stone and bars on the cavern floor He had taken the whole front out of a dwarven crafted cage! Then the smell hit him. He should have expected it but gods! There was definitely a downside to magically exploding his shit. He was gagging a bit as he made his way across the room. 

The guard was alive he was pleased to see, Asgard needed all its warriors, even the petty little twits like this one. He was, however, completely covered in Loki’s crap. Apparently the explosion had turned it into a very fine mist. How absolutely fitting for the man! He couldn’t help but laugh, and then gag some more. He truly could not have done better than this. This would be remembered the rest of the guard’s life. Slimey or not, he took the guard’s sword and dagger, feeling better for the weapons.  
The hall outside was clear, and much, much better smelling. Breathing deeply of the much fresher air and the free flow of magic, Loki tried to gather some magic, wincing and swearing quietly as it stung and his body refused to allow the magic to enter. He had strained himself getting out in more ways than one, it seemed. This hadn’t happened since he was first learning magic, he had forgotten how it hurt.  
Where was he? Loki ran down the hall trying to see some sign of where on Asgard he was. Odin’s sigil and the rune for the vaults on a wall soon showed him, He was in the vaults! How interesting and how useful that was. He needed a staff and he needed it now. The vault held the most powerful of staffs, those of sorcerers through history who had died and left them to be claimed by later generations. Odin had never allowed him to choose one before, even though Thor had been given his choice of weapons.  
The staffs were stored all in a row, waiting. For those with a lot of magical power they glowed. Some even pulsed with power. They waited patiently for someone with magic similar to their creators, powerful and deadly. As he neared Loki felt one call him. This was new – which was it? He held out his hand, hoping it wanted him enough and smiling with glee as a staff almost his height leapt to his hand. He now matched Thor in another area! A magical weapon had chosen him! It must mean his magic had gotten stronger. All he had gone through had accomplished that, at least.  
‘Midgard’ he whispered to the staff, letting it see his intentions. ‘Midgard and the start of my revenge’. He could hear yells and pounding feet as he stepped sideways into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha! I figured out how to add on a chapter. Yay me! This is much better than having many short stories in an arc.
> 
> Loki's escape came from several thoughts.  
> 1)Magic is a primal force, one of blood and emotion. Too many stories make it clean and almost pretty. I wanted to write another side of it.  
> 2) By all accounts Vikings had a rather earthy and basic sense of humor. I wanted to channel that for my first couple chapters.  
> 3) Yes, this is eventual Frostiron. Tony appears in the next chapter.
> 
> I am looking for a Beta if anyone is interested? I'm secure in thinking my story arc is decent but less so in thinking I can edit my own work.

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello AO3! So glad to get my account 1/3/2013 and to be loose amongst you! Here is the start of my Frostiron series which has several chapters done and the story arc outlined. 
> 
> This has not been betaed, sorry for any commas or errors that crept through. I've written for myself for years and am exstatic at the chance to anonymously (and prettily) post some of my stories. If any over 18 beta is willing to work with me, let me know. I have a habit of strewing commas wildly when I get going.


End file.
